


Coming Home

by Spoonybard23



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 90s Reunion Fic, Christmas Fluff, LietPol Secret Santa, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 01:14:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17356175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoonybard23/pseuds/Spoonybard23
Summary: Lithuania finds himself finally settling into his own home, celebrating with his people. Yet as always, Poland is at the heart of all conflicts and mischief.Set in early 90s Lithuania for the LietPol Secret Santa prompt: Welcome Home.





	Coming Home

Vilnius, Gedimino Pr. 11, December 21st, 1993 

He sat at his rickety, creaking desk, off in an invisible corner of the office. Paper strewn across the top of browned folder files he’d forgotten to organize through the years. Toris had gotten used to his space at work. It was disorganized; it was old-fashioned (his rusted, coal colored typewriter still stood), but it was all he needed. 

Toris could hear the bits of office gossip, even from his corner (“...It’s still early, but someone should make him leave the office.”, he hear from a young woman’s voice). 

He’d just heard back from Germany on the proposition he’d helped submit to secure a spot in the EU and he’d received a short “Merry Christmas” and curt well wishes. Italy had called just 5 minutes later, to his surprise. He wasn’t the one who had a strong relationship with the italian, but Veneciano could manage to keep anyone on the phone for a hour. 

He’d found himself smiling wistfully after the call, but it pushed his work back significantly. He’d have to wrap up at midnight and finish up tomorrow. 

“Toris, it’s late.” 

Lithuania lifted his eyes suddenly. His boss, Algirdas stood over his desk where he had just drifted off once more. He stood, taking a large drink of his coffee. 

(And he’d just spilled it on his reports, hadn’t he?)

“Sir, I should be done shortly with my review of the Finance ministry’s report--.” He began, but his boss smiled softly and tilted his head towards the door. 

“Laurinaitis, you are dismissed for today.”

He stood up at that to protest, wearily eying the stack of unfinished work. But his boss cut him off. 

“You’ve done enough. Go home and rest.” His boss nodded, stern, wiping off his brow. “I don’t want to see you back until the New Year.”

Toris’ eyes widened at that, but Algirdas cut him off before he could protest.

“You’ve been a great help, but you should put your own house in order.” He said gravely, placing a rough hand over Toris’ shoulders, like an aging father. “You’ve been here every night since the Sajudis.”

Toris nodded. Just hearing it like that from Algirdas made his shoulders sag and his eyelids drop. He smiled through the praise. It had all been worth it. 

“Alright...Alright.” Toris felt a second wind come through. And he’d need that for the drive to Kaunas. He took a stack of unfinished papers and shook them straight against his desk, neatly and gingerly placed into a file folder. 

“Alright!”

“That’s it!” His boss pushed them through the room,laughing heartily. Toris could feel the smiles from his people sitting behind. The quiet worried chatter of the young girls reassured him. “It’s still hard work at home, but we’re lucky to have a hard-working nation.”

Toris turned beet-red, his feet shuffling away from his boss’ tight hold. He was not used to this praise.

“Not every nation as efficient as you are.” His boss remarked.

“Like Poland?” Toris’ thoughts strayed back to older days, when he’d last heard those words. Poland’s capriciousness and rough shyness made him a puzzle to most of their monarchs. Toris remembered most of all the sleepless nights in which he’d held Poland at his desk. 

Feliks was a procrastinator. And to everyone’s surprise, a perfectionist. But that all meant that he’d freeze with worry and ignore all his tasks until the last minute. It was up to him to keep Feliks moving through his tasks, whispering encouragement. Inevitably he’d fall asleep on Feliks’ shoulder and he’d wake up to complaints. 

Poland’s work was always finished somehow, even if it was at the cost of a heart attack.

“Laurinaitis?” His boss’ voice rushed him back. He’d just opened the door to the streets. Toris was startled by the sleek feel of the ice beneath his feet. He held the door knob to stay upright.

“I’m fine!” He yelped, rushing to his car. “I’ll be okay.” 

“You’ll make it home?” Algirdas yelled. 

Toris smiled, yelling back. “I’ll make it back!”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He’d made it to Kaunas at midnight. 

His old wooden house was on the outskirts of Old Town. Toris could already see the overgrown grass. The edges of the ivy had grown to reach the second story and they were gnawing at the windows. 

What else could he expect after abandoning this place for over fifty years? 

Still, he had to sleep somewhere tonight and he’d rather not look for a pension house at this hour. Carefully, he pushed open the wooden door. 

A light layer of dust rose from the floorboards, forcing a cough out of him. He plucked out a torch from his pockets but to his surprise the lights were still working properly. 

(He’d paid the electric bill every month, just the minimum, but in his wildest dreams he never expected it would still work!)

Puzzled, he went further in to the kitchens. There was a new stovetop and fridge, all much too modern to be the old ones he’d left in the late forties. By this point Toris had started thinking that someone had bought his house and moved in unannounced. 

The bedrooms were empty, so that quashed that theory. Toris resolved himself to think about that in the morning, not now. With a quick bath (the pipes worked just fine and the gas heater was new and ready to heat), he went to bed. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kaunas, Vilnius g. 1, December 22nd, 1993 

A clear head and a good night’s sleep did nothing to help solve the mystery of Toris’ home. The bedsheets were still his own set--brittle and aging, but washed. He hoped nobody had been foolish enough to sleep with his own sets. 

He’d brought some clothes with him from his Vilnius apartment. Just enough to last him through the New Years, although he did have a washing machine in here. It was another surprise. 

He’d stopped by the basilica in old town for morning mass. It was packed. An older lady by the end of church had told him he’d be lucky to find a place to sit. The pope’s visit in September had encouraged his people to prepare for the Christmas season. 

The markets were even busier, filled with fresh fish, root vegetables. A few vendors offered cheese, milk and butter for the pastry. Toris had gone out to pick some items for Christmas meal. It was difficult, cooking for only one person, but Italy had recommended it. 

Toris had to admit it was difficult to choose the ingredients. He’d spent the past few years eating only the most basic homemade cooking. Before that he’d cooked for Ivan

He picked out a nice cabbage head for pickling--he wasn’t sure he wanted it, but it would keep well. A few herring, plenty of mushrooms. The basics for baking--butter, milk, eggs, rye bread. A few fresh and dried fruits and poppy seeds for the sweet bread filling. 

He filled his car with all the purchases, but he had one last stop in town. He knew one thing he wanted to eat--a strong coffee and a nice spurgos. 

The cafeteria was very simple. The walls were covered in thin light wooden panels, leading the way to the kitchen bar. The spurgos were stacked on red and white trays as they came out of the oven. 

The place was packed to the brim with families, older couples. Everyone was bundled up and warming up with a drink. 

Toris sat down at the bar where an older man had just left with his coffee. “A meat filled and cheese curd fill, please” 

The lady smiled at him and rung up his order. Toris wished her well for the holidays and accepted his plate. He’d never been here before, but the warm buns were delicious. Toris savored it as he bit into the soft, golden outside. 

“It’s a treat.” Toris marvelled at a young couple, turning to converse with his own people. The couple’s young boy nodded, as he tried to fit the pastry into his little mouth. His mother panicked a little at the mess. 

They chatted a bit more, until Toris reached his third cup of coffee and the couple had to say their goodbyes. (Little Tomas’ Merry Christmas wishes left him with a huge grin on his face)

Toris turned around to see who else he could speak to, when his ears picked up a very familiar voice. 

“...I want three of the sweet filled ones. And one of the cheese ones.” 

His head turned at the first words. At the head of the table, near the register, a short man in a bright red coat was ordering some pastries. He stood up, balancing on the ends of his shoes, pulling himself up with short jumps to warm up. 

It was him. It had to be. 

Toris wasted no time. He left a few litas on the counter and rushed to the front. But the rustle of his coat gave him away. The man at the register looked up and locked eyes with him. At a glance, his eyes widened and he rushed to pull out the change from his pocket. 

The two of them were in a mad rush for the door, but Toris was behind. On the main street, he picked up the pace. The man he followed kept a quick pace, with short steps. Toris walked with a brisk pace, long strides, and a firm hand for the crowd. 

By the second block the two of them were running. They were out of the market and crowds were thin. But there was no doubt in Toris’ mind that he could catch up. He just needed to keep within sight and he could endure longer. 

The two of them were headed for the old Kaunas castle on the main road. It was a silly escape route, since it sat at the end of the river, but the figure ahead of him seemed to avoid the most crowded street. By the time they could see the river they were both running in earnest--hands swinging wildly at the sides.

“Stop, why are you running?” Toris cried out. The cold winter chill from the river Neris bit into his bones. Still, he took off his gloves. 

The man ahead swerved right and that was Toris’ chance. He leapt forward and stretched his arms and hands. The force of his hold on the young man propelled him forward and brought them closer, until…

A slight misstep sent Feliks tumbling back, into Toris’ chest. They both heard a large crack as Toris’ back hit the ice. He felt the pain a few seconds later, along with the weight from all of Feliks’ body.

Through all this, Toris held his grip steady. Feliks had no chance to escape. 

“Ugh, help me up.” 

“I wish, but you’re bending my arms.”

Toris grunted, shifting from side to side until he could tilt his back up. He heard a raw cough from Feliks when he’d hit the snow face down. 

“Gross!” Feliks yelped, shivering from the sudden cold. He shook his hair clean of most of the snow. 

Toris had managed to stand up, although he felt a sting in his back. His groceries were strewn across the snow. But he’d take the time to pick them later.

“What are you doing here?” He fixed a stone glare on Feliks, who at least had the sense to look like a child caught in the middle of a prank. 

“I missed the train back.” He mumbled, playing with his hair in spirals. He’s lying, Lithuania thought, spotting the slight nervous shake in Poland’s right hand. He offered his hand to lift Poland to his feet and found they were clammy. 

“You were coming here from--?”

“St. Petersburg.”

Now Lithuania knew he was definitely lying. Very few large routes to Russia ran through Kaunas. Feliks’ train would have stopped in Minsk first and he wouldn’t have made it to Lithuania unless that was his intention. Not to mention, Toris had driven here last night and the roads were clear for this time of year. 

“I know what you’re thinking.” Feliks countered, scoffing and looking away. “But even if I’d rather not see his face for the next few years, he’s still around and he’s not going anywhere. And he’s not celebrating so he’s not thinking twice about, like, making me travel last minute for a trade meeting.”

Feliks frowned, but he continued. It was a habit Toris knew well. Once Feliks got into a panic, he’d keep on talking. It was only a matter of time for him to mess up and give him a hint of the truth. 

Toris interrupted. “When did you get here, and where are you staying?”

At that, Feliks looked up. He seemed to hesitate, almost as if he was searching for a certain reaction. When he didn’t get anything from Toris, he pointed to the forgotten groceries.”

“Are you gonna pick those up? Or are you waiting to get a weird herring ice block.” Feliks complained, but to Toris’ surprise he took one of the bags and started filling it. “I mean that sounds disgusting. I bet Russia would still eat it though.”

He was stalling. And Toris was getting impatient.”

“Feliks.”

The blond turned around handing him the filled bag. Toris tried to help, but his back betrayed him.

“Hold it Lie--Lithuania. I can hear your old man back from here.” Feliks smirked. “I’ll tell you on the way to your car. I mean, you didn’t walk here in this weather, did you?”

Toris sighed, but he accepted. Anything that got him answers today. The two headed back on the main street, towards the market and the crowds. It was still early, but he could see his people setting up lights on the trees that were still uncovered. He felt their joy at celebrating the holiday so openly, that even in these hard times they’d spare the expense of all the lights. 

“You know, it looks great.” Feliks commented, smiling widely. He was looking towards the red brick rooftops of Kaunas’ old town shops. “The town--it looks amazing.”

Much like at the office, Toris blushed at the praise. It wasn’t much to look at these days. Toris still remembered the grand celebrations before Russia’s bosses decided they didn’t want any of those traditions. It was small, but now, it was his. 

“I get it, you know. It’s the same with Warsaw. I used to think it looked so boring with all those grey, blocky buildings Russia’s bosses liked.” Feliks stuck closer to him, reminiscing. They were passing the larger crowds of the Christmas market now. “But seeing the Christmas trees and all the lights again makes me think we could really turn it into our own now.” 

Toris hummed. He hadn’t been to Warsaw in almost a decade, so he couldn’t say much. That topic, much like Vilnius, was still delicate.

“It’s home, right?”

Toris turned to look at that statement, first at Feliks and then at the streets around him. He struggled to follow Feliks’ words. 

Home. Just what did Feliks mean by that? A small part of him could feel a chill run through. It was too soon to bring up anything like that. 

The two followed the path until Feliks came to a stop at a side street not more than a few blocks away from the old town city square. 

“Aaaand we’re here.” Feliks announced, cutting through the silence. “I wasn’t lying, you know. I got a small room here from one of your people. She’s renting out a few beds, not that you’d need a place.”

“Just don’t cause much trouble, alright.” Toris sighed, accepting that he’d get no confessions out of Feliks. “With any luck you’ll find a train in the morning. You might still make it to Warsaw for Christmas.” 

Feliks gave a noncommittal hum. He pressed the button for his flat (Toris noted a faded print out labeled “Cizauskas”). A woman’s head popped up from the window for a second, and right after a light buzz opened the front gate. Feliks held the door open for a few seconds, his grip tight and clammy again. 

Toris began to head back home, until a hesitant voice pulled him back.

“Hey, uhm...Lithuania.”

Toris turned. Feliks opened his mouth to speak, but the words seemed to get caught in his throat. A light blush rushed to Feliks’ cheeks, puffed up and near their limit. 

The atmosphere became as tense and awkward as it had when they’d last truly seen each other face to face, still high on the optimism of their last independence. 

His stomach was already doing flips with worry at the lasting damage they’d both done, one after the other. It wasn’t anything he wanted to repeat and he hoped Feliks would have the sense to do the same. 

“Yes?” He spoke softly, but his voice must have betrayed the turmoil that ran inside.

“Hey, I didn’t mean--” Feliks cut himself off. He looked towards the building where he was supposedly staying. “I guess it doesn’t matter. I bet we’ll run into each other again, before Christmas.”

He took out his paper receipt from the cafe and scratched off the top. He wrote something on it and handed it over. 

Toris blinked. “What is this for?” He hadn’t looked to see what Feliks had just written. 

The blond smiled wistfully, taking a step inside the doors. 

“Don’t kill yourself worrying about it, okay?” He said with finality. “It’s just, you know, in case you need it.”

And with those words Feliks closed the doors, leaving Toris to his city and to his thoughts.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Kaunas, Žaliakalnis district, December 23nd (Morning), 1993 

Toris woke up later than he expected. He’d spent all the prior afternoon mulling over that walk with Feliks--that mystery that had overtaken the morning’s concern over his too-clean house. Feliks was in Kaunas, spending Christmas in Kaunas, and Toris could not come up with a single sensible reason as to why the polish man would eschew spending time in his own country. 

He’d gotten home and immediately stashed away his groceries between the (surprisingly well stocked and rodent-free) cabinets and the fridge. His dinner was nothing more than a few slices of bread and scrambled eggs that he’d rushed together while staring at the note Feliks left with him. 

“324-582”

It was a phone number. Feliks had given him the phone number to his room. Feliks wanted him to call back!

But did he want to call Feliks?

The thought consumed his mind even through his best attempts to focus on the rest of the cleaning. The problem, he thought, is that the house was in too good a state to require his full attention and any dusting, sweeping and scrubbing he did

He fell into bed early, tossing and turning at intervals, sipping his chamomile tea. To his body, it was as if someone had replaced it with the strongest italian espresso. Come morning he didn’t need his usual coffee, thanks to all the adrenaline.

Toris sat down on the kitchen table. He looked out the window at the falling snow--it had fallen all night, and covered his car. 

There was one last corner he could clean.

Toris walked back to the corner of the living room, behind the worn couch. The latch to the attic stirred when he pulled on it, and he noticed the lock he’d left was rusted and weak but not broken. Opening it up, a large coat of deep black soot coated his face. He saw spider’s webs on the steps and heard a rustling of little creatures upstairs (mice, perhaps). 

It was untouched--the only corner of the house that resembled what it should--a house left alone for fifty years. 

Toris brought his torch he’d left forgotten in the kitchen two nights ago. With a deep breath, he shone it on the contents of the room. 

In the closest corner he found a suitcase still half-unpacked and full of mementos. A rusted saxophone in its case, a few cigarettes still half-opened, the gaudiest bright orange striped vest that America had purchased for him. 

(He’d insisted at the time that Toris needed something fashionable to blend into the local scene. Toris insisted he stuck out like a sore thumb in an establishment in which he did not want to be recognized. Even then, he recalled Feliks stare across the counters of a seedy Chicago bar. Even Feliks wouldn’t be caught dead in that outfit.)

Toris left that alone. He took only the apron stuffed in the luggage’s corner pocket. It would come in handy later when he cooked for Christmas. 

The rest of the room felt more ominous to tackle. The weight of so many memories hung heavy on his shoulders. 

Poland had always accused him of acting like a sentimental old man. Most of those claims had been long ago, when he’d clung to his old gods and folkture despite years of the Warsaw elite’s derision. America had insisted the same, although Lithuania felt it was little the pot calling the kettle black. It said much about him that even the youngest nation still had more trinkets lying around his basement than Lithuania kept in his attic. 

In truth, he threw most of those things away. Certainly the Russian keepsakes--those he was forced to take never made it out of his Vilnius apartment. Those had been the first to go once the New Year passed in 1991. 

Any remains from the Commonwealth were swept away in the chaos, and had never made it to this house or any other residence. Toris had never held onto anything more than his personal possessions. 

They were in the back, past the layers on mundane spare curtains and bedsheets. Just a suitcase-sized chest, made with wooden oak and tight metal fastening. Light enough to carry or hide in case of a siege. Unlike most of the furniture at Wawel palace, it wasn’t ornate or fanciful. The wood wasn’t filled with intricate carvings of religion or royal heraldry, and it was on purpose. 

Feliks had given it to him at Toris’ request for safekeeping. It wasn’t a gift on account of being so simple, but for long Toris treasured it. It couldn’t hold much, but for years it held everything that mattered most--his treasured gifts, small amber necklaces and gold rings from their union, spare books printed in his own language, and letters shared between them both. 

It survived the looting of the deluge and all three partitions almost intact. But Toris had sentenced it to be confined here, not shortly after the capture of Vilnius. 

Toris thought back to those days. It was hazy, but he remembered the ire that led him to separate out the last of their shared possessions. All of his books were now downstairs and the few mementos from his time as a duchy were displayed in the cabinets below. The chest only had reminders from Poland. 

It was his best attempt to contain and confine the memories that were too bitter to face. 

He held the padlock in his hands; the key long lost to the waters of the Neman. His hands trembled at the thought of breaking the seal, as if opening it would unleash a misery onto himself--a Pandora’s box of his own creation. 

But to leave this place in order, he had to confront it. He couldn’t linger or return to the attic and attempt any cleaning without being drawn to its presence. He’d come too far to be able to sleep soundly without the thought--last night was the proof of that. 

And perhaps, he thought with finality, it was a burden his mind had carried for too long.

With a sound, clean push the lock came undone. 

The inside was much different than he remembered. It was a bare oak lining when Feliks had gifted it, and that was how he remembered it, with the added chips and scratches that came with time, but the inside now was much different. A plush crimson red velvet with the herald of the Grand Duchy lined the interior. 

Inside the contents were not hastily strewn about, as he would have expected from his anger, but laid to rest gingerly. To the side were letters from their late correspondence--heady with affection, optimism and rebellion. Noted with care with shared poets, and in Feliks’ case written on spare pieces of piano sheet music. The pieces of amber that Lithuania remembered were not his own, but gifts of necklaces and rings he’d presented to Feliks in the days before the union was large and prosperous. The gold band was Poland’s own invention. He’d commissioned a matching pair after Lublin for their own personal use, and Toris noted that even today his own ring lacked any of the symbols of the commonwealth. 

A thought long forgotten came back to Toris’ mind. Feliks had insisted that the box was too plain and he hadn’t given the gift much thought at first. But the deluge’s raids left him lamenting the loss of the second band--Feliks’ band. He recalled Feliks had lined the box himself--had left the amber gifts to him in full trust. He recalled how they both argued endlessly on what little space they had to fill. 

“You’re too sentimental Liet.” He heard Poland’s voice in his head, felt Poland’s smile on his lips. “Keeping so much in there. You know no matter what we lose, I won’t forget.” 

Lithuania brushed his eyes with his palm, holding back tears. He had forgotten; he had forgotten so little, and yet he’d lost part of what was so essential. 

And in his melancholy, he’d forgotten how to separate out the parts from those days that mattered most.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Kaunas, Žaliakalnis district, December 23nd (Mid-Afternoon), 1993 

Toris stayed upstairs for a while longer, enough to compose himself. The silence in the house rivaled the peace of an empty church at midnight. It gave him enough time to arrange the contents back into their proper place, but also alerted Toris to someone wandering below. 

He left the chest closed but unsealed, brushed his clothes clean and stepped down to investigate. 

In his kitchen, a young girl looked up dubiously at him, as if she was testing to see if he was meant to be there. She held a broom between her hands, brushing the last crumbs from the morning’s breakfast. 

A pile of mail was on the table where his plates lied before.

“Excuse me, miss?” Toris began, stepping down the stairs. She was young, and he didn’t want to startle her. “Are you the one who’s been coming here to clean?”

“Are you the owner?” She asked with some curiosity, nodding in response to his query. She handed him a typed letter as proof. “I’ve been coming every other day since your last correspondence. It’s nice to see you in person.” 

“But I didn’t hire a housekeeper…” Toris trailed off as he saw her face turn panicked. He quickly corrected himself. “Let me read the letter. It’s possible my boss sent someone here expecting that I would need the house again.” 

She nodded and waited for Lithuania to get through the contents of the note. It was difficult to discern--whoever wrote the note had taken great care to leave no trace of an identity. The letter had no signature other than a perfect replica of Toris’ own and the wording was so formal so as to leave no trace of any personality from the author. The date told him that this girl had been cleaning his house for over a year now.

Toris supposed it was possible that he’d signed this contract in one of the Seimas late night flurries of legislative activity, but he had no recollection of it. 

Perhaps more importantly, if this was his boss’ doing or his people’s doing, then why would he think Toris needed the time to collect himself and arrange his house? 

It’s not like the funding couldn’t be used for a better purpose. 

“It says here that you receive a salary of 500 litas a month.” Toris read out. “Has someone been providing this to you on my behalf.?” 

“The money arrives every month in the mail.” She explained, and Toris breathed a sigh of relief that at least this whole scheme had been done in good faith. “It’s a good job, so I never asked too much.” 

“I’ve never met with anyone about this job, but I had a posting in the newspaper that I was looking for work.” She explained. She could tell that he was troubled at first and that he knew nothing of the whole affair. “Could you tell who hired me by the letter?”

Toris shook his head. He’d found the girl’s name in the letter (Vaida) and that was all he had as proof. It was hardly enough. She was a resident of Kaunas, a few years outside of school but unmarried. From her demeanor, Toris could tell that she made do with what she earned from these odd jobs, and that whoever had seen the ad had hired her for that reason alone. 

“I should tidy up the living room.” She offered as a distraction. “The letter said to leave the attic untouched, but since you are here I could help with the cleaning now.”

“I’m closing that for today.” Toris declared, placing the latch back on the door. “It’s too much work for a day like today.”

“Then?” She exclaimed astonished. “I’ve not much to do here these days. And today someone cleaned this place to a sparkle. I can’t in good faith leave without earning my pay.”

He could think of a solution to that. “I was planning to cook Christmas dinner. I wouldn’t say no to some help with that.” 

She seemed to take to that, rushing to the fridge to pull out the ingredients. “Are we making all twelve dishes? It’s a lot for just you, sir.”

He chuckled. “We’re making all twelve, but I’d like it if you took some home to your family. It’s too much for me like you say”

“I’m not too sure what I’d like to make, so you’ll have to help me decide.” He continued. 

She calmed down and relaxed after they spoke about food and traditions. They both agreed that smoked herring and pickled vegetables were a must at the table. The dumplings were fussy, especially from scratch, but that you had to give the meal some variety. The kūčiukai were also unavoidable, much to Vaida’s dismay. Toris had laughed at her comments that it was a very plain dessert, but he couldn’t deny it. 

He took over that job, to his delight, he got to take out a few lasting frustrations on the dough. Vaida just stayed away peeling the beets. 

She told him of her brothers, who were almost of age. Of how she would tease them as children when they misbehaved, by pretending to give their future through the family cat. One year, she said, she’d scared her youngest brother by predicting that she’d found him a bride in the stern old lady who spent her days scolding any noisy neighborhood kids. He’d been mortified enough to knock on her door and cry until the “wedding” was cancelled. 

It was the kind of prank that Feliks would be proud of.

By the end of the afternoon, they’d exhausted themselves. But the proof was twelve delicious dishes and enough rye bread to feed a full family. He’d sent her home with half of it, despite her protests.

But he couldn’t help the wide, silly grin that stuck during the whole afternoon. How long had it been since he felt truly useful to his people?

He placed an envelope into her hands as she stepped onto the porch. It was enough from what he could spare to hopefully ease her worries for the holidays. 

She said her goodbyes. 

Just as she was leaving, Toris thought to stop her.

“Excuse me, could I trouble you to deliver a small message to a friend.” He asked, taking back the envelope to add a sliver of paper to it. 

“His name is Feliks Lukasiewicz, and he should know what to do with it when he sees it.”

The phone call came only half an hour later. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kaunas, Old Town, December 24nd, 1993 

Toris was on time at the top of Aleksotas hill just as he’d agreed over the phone. He clutched a small satin bag in his palm--his last minute gift to Feliks. 

(He’d panicked when he found nothing that could make a good gift for Feliks at the shops, even when he didn’t know if it was expected of him to bring one. He’d settled on the current one out of necessity, even though it had him nervous.)

It was past seven, but Feliks was nowhere to be found.

(“Why don’t we meet somewhere.” Feliks suggested. “It’ll be easier for you than me crashing at your house.”

That did sound much less stressful to him, so he accepted. 

“At the funicular!” Feliks cried with enthusiasm, seemingly elated. “I’ll wait for you at seven, so don’t leave me hanging. It’s too cold for that!”)

He hung up right after, before Toris could reply.

It took until a quarter past seven for Toris to hear a loud complaint from behind. 

“I can’t believe you went ahead of me.” Feliks was huffing and climbing the last of the stairs to the top. “We were supposed to ride up here together!” 

“You didn’t tell me that.” Toris felt his blood rise in a panic, until he remembered that detail was not part of the plan. “Besides, I didn’t see anyone down there operating the ride. 

Feliks pouted, but he didn’t complain like Toris expected him to. The two were the only ones out here between the cold and the closed ride, and as he noticed that Toris wondered if this had been the plan all along.

“Sooooo…” Feliks trailed off, taking a step aside and sitting on a baren tree stump. “What was so important that you couldn’t talk over the phone?”

“I was thinking about what you said yesterday.” Toris began. “About Kaunas being my home.”

Feliks frowned, scrunching up his forehead and narrowing his eyebrows. He shook his head vigorously. 

“Don’t even go there.” He cut Toris off loudly, exasperated. “Don’t you get it yet? I wasn’t talking about a building.”

“My house, were you the one who…” 

“I’ve never seen you house here. I don’t know where it is.” Feliks insisted. “That’s not what I came here for.” 

Feliks had steeled his face. But Toris was at his breaking point. 

“Then why?!” He demanded, leaning forward. “Why are you here? If it wasn’t you, how did you find my phone number!”

Feliks trembled, but through his pained face he seemed to come to a resolution. 

“Because I missed you.” He said simply. “Because I wanted to give you a chance to see if you still missed me.”

Toris faltered in his response. He left unguarded, completely lost at this response he hadn’t predicted from a man he thought he knew better than anyone else. It was not in Feliks’ nature to confront his own emotions so openly. 

There was no guidebook for how to proceed anymore. At a loss for words, Toris handed over his gift and hoped the items inside could speak for him. 

Feliks didn’t take well to the gift at first. Toris could see him eying it warily, glaring at him. At that moment it occurred to him that Feliks’ reaction to gifts as bribes had changed starkly since they were children. 

But his gift was nothing of that sort and Feliks’ frown softened when he saw its contents. His shaky hand covered his mouth, as if he dared not name the contents for fear that they would disappear. 

Inside Toris had wrapped the hair brooches that Feliks commissioned and kept throughout it all--a small silver wolf and an amber dragon. 

“Silly, sentimental Liet.” Feliks sobbed at the sight of the pins. His voice peaked as he held back the tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks. “You kept those in that box of yours, didn’t you? But how did you find them now?” 

“They were at home.” Toris revealed. He could only answer honesty with honesty. “I could never bear to throw them away.”

“Liet--Lithuania!”

Feliks corrected himself, trying to regain control of his own affections. But Toris placed his own hand below Feliks’, where he held the satin bag’s contents. 

“Don’t worry about that, Po.” He reassured. “I only thought it should be returned to its owner. It’s the only Christmas present I could offer you now.”

At that, Toris felt his own hand damp with tears. He’d just brushed them away from Feliks’ eye. 

He’d done that to see the lovely, lively glint of Feliks’ eyes. 

“You big dummy. These aren’t just mine.”

Feliks unclipped the polished pin from the sides and held it up to Lithuania’s head.

“Well? Turn around for me.” 

Toris obliged, smiling softly. Feliks’ hands slid delicately through the strands of Toris’ thick hair, weaving them together into a short bun. The pin clipped in place. 

Toris felt a wave of nostalgia as Feliks fussed further, twisting the bun and the brooch so it could be seen from the front. 

“You should have told me about this. I would have brought the new Polaroid!” Feliks exclaimed, looking proud of his handiwork. He stopped Toris in front of the hill, facing the view of old town. 

“You look fierce, Liet.” He insisted. Feliks took his fingers into a frame. “It looks so good on you—like picture perfect!” 

“Po, that’s not a camera and the wolf isn’t the right legend for Kaunas.” 

“Shh, don’t underestimate my memory, Liet.” 

He put on his best smile, in earnest. It was difficult not to. Hearing Feliks embrace his old nickname with a joy long lost. He could tell his own smile left Feliks breathless. 

“Uhh, it’s getting a little dizzy up here.” Feliks complained as soon as he noticed Toris’ knowing smile. 

“Let’s head back to old town. I’ll buy you some kissel.” 

“I don’t know if that’s much help Liet. The one I had last night was very strong.”

A lightheaded Poland, now that was a likely story, Lithuania thought. Another white lie for the pile.

The two prepared to head back when they saw a light turned on in the middle of the funicular’s watchhouse. The cars were not running, but an older man’s silhouette shone through the windows. 

He smiled as soon as he spotted Lithuania and motioned them over. Feliks looked at him, as confused as he was, but he followed Toris’ lead. 

“I thought I felt someone around. Do you boys need a ride?” He asked, turning on the tired engines to the cars. He introduced himself as Jonas Šalčius, an old resident that had grown up in Kaunas since he was born. 

Toris blinked, surprised that someone had been close enough to hear and feel them. “If it is open.” He offered. 

The old man gestured towards the car’s open door and nodded at them. He took back his post and once they were both inside, and started the old machinery. 

They sat on opposite ends. Inside, Feliks looked pensieve. He clutched at the dragon brooch in his hands. For what felt like quite a few minutes, neither of them broke the silence. The screech of metal upon metal where the rail met their car was the only sound. 

“I think he could sense us, like we can sense them.” Feliks met Toris’ eyes. “He felt you, and he knew you were here.” 

Toris hummed. He knew that sensation well--a premonition of sorts that guided them. But he’d never once thought to say if it worked the other way around. 

“I’ve felt it, sometimes, you know.”

“Ah?”

Feliks leaned closer, sitting at the edge of his seat. He was eager to share this theory with Toris. 

“When things were at their worst back then, I would always get help when I least expected from my people. Some of the places they found me were incredibly out there.”

“Back then…” Toris mused. 

“With Ivan, the first time and then too many times to count during and after the war.” Feliks noted--it needed little explanation. He was shaking a little, although he insisted it was the cold. 

“I started to think that maybe they could hear us. Feel us. Give us hope like our own guardians.” Feliks smiled. “

It was a strange coincidence--so many things during this trip had been, even if not by chance. Perhaps there was something in Feliks’ words. But to think so was too great a comfort for Toris to rely on. 

“We have good people.” He settled on that. “We both have good people that make us feel at home.”

It was half-way through the ride and the foot of the hill was in sight. The light from the funicular was dim and the Kaunas’ skyline was hidden amongst the naked trees. He didn’t need any of that light to tell him that he’d made Feliks smile with pride. He felt just the same, in so many ways.

Carefully, he stepped up and sat on the other side. His only guide was the palm of Feliks’ hand that brought him closer and the glimmer of the amber dragon that laid just above Feliks’ chest. It was all he needed. 

“Come home with me.” 

Toris proposed in whisper, his arm shifted down to Feliks’ waist. Softly, he turned their bodies to meet, until their eyes were able to look onto one another without the need of any light. 

They shared the gentlest of touches together, before the ride ran its course. 

Feliks didn’t give him a response to that idea either, but they both knew the answer with absolute certainty. 

As the bells of the church struck twelve and the two laid together in an embrace, a peace set in the house. A silent and calm respite from the chaos that softened their touch and undid the tension that had set in and become a fixture in both of them. 

A melancholic melody played from the radio, but Toris found the comfort lull him to sleep.

There were still corners to clean--memories and mementos to unpack. There was plenty of work awaiting him on his return to Vilnius.

But, he thought, as he held Feliks’ hand through the corners of their shared blanket, he wouldn’t have to do so alone. He smiled, turning back to the warmth, the comfort of holding Feliks in the late night without a single care. To the hum of his people enjoying the holidays outside.

He was loved. 

He was home.

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhh! I finally managed to get approved for an account. This fic was originally linked on the LietPol Secret Santa tumblr when I realized that you can't just sign up for an AO3 account the day of. 
> 
> There are a few notes below that I've left from the drafting process. A lot of the references came from Kaunas' tourism information (they're doing a good job over there on convincing me to take a detour to visit) and the rest is just old-fashioned Street View walks (think "Find the Airport" style, because that doesn't date me at all...).
> 
> Notes:  
> I’ve mentioned the formation of the Sajudis movement, which led demands to Lithuania’s independence in the next few years. Lithuania’s boss here was not officially part of this movement, and I’ve left Lithuania’s own involvement vague on purpose. However, it was the start of the end of Soviet occupation and as such I can’t help but see Lithuania involved in one way or another.
> 
> Lithuania’s house in Kaunas isn’t meant to be a historically old (Pre-Russian occupation) residence. The house dates from the early 20th century--bought for Toris when the Polish occupation of Vilnius moved the capital to Kaunas. From all the details I could find, this was a popular residential district after WW1. The district has quite a few parks and green spaces, so I felt it fit Toris well for that time period. (My favorite inspiration is this house from the Kaunas tourism site: https://visit.kaunas.lt/en/to-see/wood-based-architecture/a-jokimo-namas/).  
> ‘  
> The cafeteria is also based on an existing cafe--Spurgine (https://www.facebook.com/pages/Spurgin%C4%97/193819220688890). The design of the cafeteria is said to be from the 1980s, so I’ve kept it here. 
> 
> Toris and Feliks’ chat overlooking Kaunas is at the top of the old funicular (https://visit.kaunas.lt/en/to-see/top/kauno-funilukieriai/). I couldn’t find any proof that the ride was running at the time the story is set, but it continues to run to this day. 
> 
> The melancholic Christmas song that plays on the radio while Toris and Feliks are resting is called Christmas Tree. The band that created it is from Kaunas. I couldn’t find any statistics on how popular it was, but it does get a shout out on the Kaunas tourism site and it was on TV during the late eighties. I listened to it on repeat while writing.


End file.
